


janglin

by idolrapper (wonwoo)



Category: GOT7, SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Canon Compliant, Multi, Sexual Humor, Swearing, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9368249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonwoo/pseuds/idolrapper
Summary: we could create our own superhero trio, Jungkook thinks,The Telepathic Three!“But what good are we if we can only read each other's minds?” Yugyeom points out, twirling his microphone. It drops to the ground with a clatter. “We'd be the lamest superheroes ever.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> idk how to write any of these kids let alone jungkook POV but 
> 
> [97 line for world domination](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C02kfGqVEAQchle.jpg)

When Jungkook, in the middle of recording a Suga demo, gets a Spice Girls song stuck in his head, he realises something is very, very wrong.

Yoongi clears his throat, tapping on the side of the table he’s sat at. He fixes Jungkook a puzzled, but ultimately, unamused look. “Would you mind telling me why that adlib turned into... _zigazig ah_?” he asks.

Jungkook's brain warbles _FRIENDSHIP NEVER EEEEEEEEENDS_ and then it goes _fuck, why does Seungcheol hyung take so long in shower, oh no, there's jizz on the wall, I repeat there is JIZZ on the wall_ in an entirely different voice, and Jungkook is so confused. He offers Yoongi a lackadaisical shrug, and replies, “Something in the instrumental made me think of another song.”

“Well,” Yoongi says, shuffling his music sheets in an almost perfunctory manner, “Get it out of your head, and stay focused.”

_YOU GOTTA SLAM, SLAM, SLAM, SLAM!_

 

 

The second time it happens, Jungkook is lazing about in a dressing room in the KBS building. His leather-clad legs are pendent over the other end of the couch, his phone practically tucked under his chin so no one spies him scrolling through the Yugyeom tag on Twitter. Except Taehyung does. He leans over Jungkook, commenting on Yugyeom’s zoomed in thighs like he would the weather. Immediately, Jungkook screeches, his phone a hot potato in his hands, and then Taehyung belatedly realises what’s up. He floats out of the room, cackling, “Mark’s gotta know about this!”

Five minutes later, when Jungkook’s spread-eagled on the couch and regretting not chasing after Taehyung when he had the chance, a string of thoughts drift into his mind: _man, I’m so tired, barely got any sleep last night thanks to Hansollie’s goddamn rainforest noises, oh there’s Jinyoung sunbaenim, do I look good, better work extra hard today ‘cause Joshua hyung’s feeling down, maybe I should give him a hug?_

Jungkook listens to this mental spiel in perplexed rapture. He doesn’t know what any of it means, but he knows one thing—it didn’t come from him. 

Before Jungkook can do anything about HOW HE CAN POSSIBLY READ FUCKING MINDS, he’s called away to the pre-recording. On the way out, Mingyu from Seventeen strolls past, and he waves at Jungkook stiffly, flashing his canines. The Voice in Jungkook’s mind says, _he’s so hot, I wish we were closer_. Jungkook waves back, except Mingyu from Seventeen’s already down the hall.

Taehyung hooks an arm around Jungkook’s neck when they group up, shoving a phone in Jungkook’s hand. The Twitter app is open. “Did you know,” Taehyung whispers, with glee, “you were logged onto the Bangtan account?” 

Jungkook squints, and—there’s a tweet from a Yugyeom fansite, the heart coloured in red. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathes. His mind says, _huh, I wonder why my name’s trending on Twitter, let me go ask Bambam_. It was The Voice, or—Jungkook is ninety-nine per cent sure there are two of them. Fuckfuckfuck. What is his life.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” Taehyung laughs, pointing at Yugyeom’s smile, the colourful stickers on his cheeks, the cat ears on his head, “It’s a pretty innocuous photo. It could’ve been the one with the thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighs.”

_holy shit_

_hm was it the 15 second rule or the 50 second rule? eh, imma eat it_

 

 

“Hey, so, about the Twitter thing?” Jungkook tries not to stammer, tightening the shoelaces of his bowling shoes. “I just wanted to apologi—”

He’s interrupted by an abrupt cackle from Yugyeom. “Don’t worry about that. I go through your pictures all the time.” Yugyeom then goes bright red, realising what he’d just said, and he tries to put the bowling ball he’d been poking his fingers into back onto the return but his fingers are stuck and he’s shaking them but they won’t come loose and— _I’M GOING TO DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! THAT WAS SO EMBARRASSING!_

“You’re not going to die, butt head,” Jungkook says, leaping up to help Yugyeom, his fingers gripping gently around Yugyeom’s wrist. 

Yugyeom gives him a funny look, and his hand stops jiggling. “I said that out loud?”

“Um,” Jungkook replies. 

_what, Seokmin said he’s hearing voices in his head? Should I confess that I am too or should I let everyone think he’s crazy ‘cause that’s pretty hilarious? If I confess, won’t that mean we’ll both be called crazy? Is that the kinda sacrifice I wanna make for a bro?!_

_yes? Friendship is magic_

Yugyeom waves a palm over Jungkook’s eyes. “You okay there? You went kinda blank for a moment.”

“Nothing,” Jungkook mumbles, taking the bowling ball out of Yugyeom’s hands, “Just—a lot of thoughts. All at once. You know how it is.”

Suddenly, Jungkook is being grabbed by the shoulders, and Yugyeom’s mouth is like, one inch away from his, and he thinks, _is he going to kiss me?_ and Yugyeom says, all frantically, “No, not now.”

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook bursts out, “It’s you? You’re The Voice?”

 _no shit, Sherlock_. “Apparently,” Yugyeom says. His breath fans over Jungkook’s face and it smells like the sour lollies they’d bought at the counter, and Yugyeom had guzzled down much to the dismay of his stomach. But anyway. “There’s another one, isn’t there? I couldn’t sleep last night because he was taking his goddamn time jerking off to an hour long video of Spider-Man sex? I’m pretty sure that wasn’t you. I can’t stand him.”

“I must’ve been asleep,” Jungkook says, stepping out of Yugyeom’s grip, “I—I need to take a seat.”

“What are we going to do?” Yugyeom doesn’t so much as plonk down on the opposite seat as he does trip on his untied shoelaces.

“There must be a common link, right?” Jungkook considers, “Between us and the other guy? We should find him first, and then hopefully we’ll be able to get rid of this. No offence but I am sick to death of hearing about like, fermentation and what Jinyoung wrote in his diary last night.” In retrospect, figuring out that The Voice was Yugyeom would’ve been simple, had Jungkook not tried to tune out Yugyeom’s thoughts every time they popped into his head. He could only hyperventilate into a paper bag so many times before Namjoon started looking at him weird.

“Huh,” Yugyeom awes, “That’s actually smart thinking, Kook.”

Jungkook blushes a little. “Shut up. Let’s play.”

Ten minutes into the game, when Yugyeom’s beating Jungkook by five strikes, Yugyeom thinks: _hey, aren’t you glad we didn’t go with chess after all?_

 

 

A lot changes in the next two weeks.

It starts when Yugyeom texts Jungkook saying that Bambam can read someone’s mind too, _and_ he’s figured out who that someone is through mental conversation (Jungkook and Yugyeom haven’t got the hang of that yet; Jungkook will try to send Yugyeom a message, won’t receive a response, and three hours later, he’ll have another goddamn Chris Brown song stuck in his head)—The8 from Seventeen. 

A few days after the text, Jungkook’s sprawled across Yugyeom’s bed, face hidden by the hoodie of the Slowpoke onesie he’d borrowed from Yugyeom who stole it off Youngjae. His arms are folded across his bare chest, the sleeves of the onesie empty and limp.

“Apparently, they got together at MuBank yesterday,” Yugyeom’s saying, as he folds the mountain of clothes on his desk chair. “Talked to some PD, and guess what?”

“What,” Jungkook says, struggling the stay awake. He’s just so snug. A wayward thought trickles into his mind: _Jihoon can play the drums?_

Yugyeom doesn’t reply for a moment. He crawls across the bed, propping his chin up against Jungkook’s collarbone. “We’re doing a special stage.”

Jungkook cracks an eye open. “Me and you?”

“And Bambam, and our Seventeen friends,” Yugyeom elaborates. In a stage whisper, he tacks on, “ _And_ girls.”

“Oh God,” Jungkook groans. He tries to cover his face with his hands, forgetting they’re inside the onesie, and he doesn’t have a chance to regret putting them there before Yugyeom starts digging his fingers into Jungkook’s stomach, right below his belly button where he’s crazy sensitive. 

_STOP STOP STOP!_ Jungkook hiccups, his legs flailing in an attempt to push Yugyeom off him, _I’LL DO ANYTHING_

Yugyeom pauses, peering down at Jungkook. _Anything?_

Jungkook narrows his eyes. _Y-yes?_

_I dare you to ask for Jihyo’s number next week_

Which is how Jungkook ends up standing in front of a very unamused Jihyo from Twice, staring down at her tapping foot. “I—I was just wondering. You have a phone, right?”

“I do,” Jihyo says, blinking owlishly. Jungkook thinks that might just be her eyes though. “Why?”

“Well, I mean, some girl groups don’t have...” Jungkook trails off awkwardly, looking over at Yuju snickering at him. “They don’t have phones...”

_maybe I should go save him_

“You can’t have my number, Jungkook-ssi,” Jihyo replies coolly. She places a hand on his shoulder, gives him a patronising pat or two. “Sorry.”

_okay, I’m gonna go save him_

Jungkook’s then being dragged away by someone slightly taller. It’s Mingyu. Yeah, they’re on a first name basis now.

 _phew, that was close! Hm, should I give Jungkook_ my _number?_

Jungkook makes eye contact with Yugyeom across the room, shoots him a quizzical look, and Yugyeom thinks, _that wasn’t me_ , and a lightbulb goes off in his head. 

“Mingyu,” Jungkook says, his arm now snaked around Mingyu’s waist. _You wouldn’t happen to be hearing voices in your head, would you?_

A slow realisation dawns on Mingyu. His eyes dart back and forth between Jungkook and Yugyeom. His mouth falls open. _Wow_. Then, he grins. “What the fuck,” he breathes, “This is _sick_.”

Yugyeom makes his way over to them, poking a finger into Mingyu’s chest. “Spider-Man? Really? There are at least _three_ sexier superheroes.”

Mingyu’s smile widens. “Yeah? Name one.”

 _this asshole_ , Yugyeom thinks. 

_I can heaaaaaaaar you_ , Mingyu shoots back, slinging his other arm around Yugyeom’s shoulders, _how do you two feel about beer and chicken?_

 

 

 _we could create our own superhero trio_ , Jungkook thinks, _The Telepathic Three!_

“But what good are we if we can only read each other's minds?” Yugyeom points out, twirling his microphone. It drops to the ground with a clatter. “We'd be the lamest superheroes ever.”

 

 

Jungkook stops being able to read Mingyu’s mind in the New Year.

They’re at the Golden Disk Awards, Seventeen in the row behind them, GOT7 backstage somewhere, and Jungkook’s got an itch in the small of his back that he’s been begging Hoseok to scratch for the past half an hour. Every time Hoseok gives in, he bares his nails like animal claws, but when they reach Jungkook’s back, it’s with the faintest of touches. Jungkook wants to _scream_.

“Hyuuuung,” he whines instead, trying to reach around with his own hand in a way that won’t rip his handmade jacket. His fingertips are barely able to scrape the itch before his attention is taken by the instrumental of Hard Carry roaring through the speakers, and a shot of Yugyeom on the screen—his pitch-black hair styled in what their hair stylist calls artful dishevelment ( _Really?_ comes Mingyu’s voice), the choker around his throat, the sheer shirt, glitter catching on the stage lights. Jungkook wants to _scream_.

 _hey, turn around_ , Mingyu thinks.

Jungkook complies. Mingyu smiles at him. 

_it’s a smirk, it was a smirk_

_whatever_

_wanna fuck with Yugyeom_

_I’d rather fuck him_

_you know we can hear you_. Mingyu blinks at him. _it was a wink, fuck you!_

 _YOU KNOW I CAN HEAR YOU_ , Yugyeom thinks. Jungkook turns back, taking a glance at the screen to see Yugyeom’s eyes slightly widen during his line before he composes himself. _yeah, it's called professionalism!!!!!!!_

 

 

It isn’t until after the show that Mingyu is able to explain his Evil Plan, which is not so much an Evil Plan as it is a date disguised in a black cloak. Not even a black cloak. Like, a dark grey cloak. 

“Let’s go watch the new Star Wars movie,” Mingyu says, grabbing Jungkook in the corridor leading out to the carpark. 

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

“Okay, what about Yugyeom?”

“He can’t come.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking questions.”

“Why?”

 _ok, we have this bet going on but clearly Yugyeom’s going to know that I’m trying to win right at this very moment so we gotta hurry alright_ , Mingyu’s inner voice rambles. 

“Why don’t I know about this bet?”

“You were asleep,” Mingyu says, shrugging. He tugs on his jacket. 

“Why am I always asleep at the wrong times,” Jungkook complains. 

“Do you want me to answer that?”

_please don’t_

 

 

Jungkook stops being able to read Mingyu’s mind an hour later, in a cinema in Gangnam.

It’s technically the first time they’ve been alone together, if Jungkook doesn’t count Yugyeom going to the bathroom when the three of them got beer and chicken. There’d been a moment of awkward silence then, the ice broken by them having to listen to a tipsy Yugyeom trying to aim his pee into the urinal.

They barely use their telepathic connection now, content to just talk out loud on the way to the cinema. Mingyu pays for two tickets to Rogue One, shoving the money at the cashier before Jungkook has a chance to protest. “You’re paying for food,” he says, with a toothy grin. “I'm gonna be loaded after today, anyway.”

“Chivalry isn’t dead after all,” Jungkook grumbles, letting Mingyu open the door for him. Halfway through the film, and right around the mark where his attention span starts deteriorating, he whispers, “Hey, Mingyu, what was the bet?” They’re sitting in the back row, dutifully ignoring the couple making out three rows below them.

Mingyu edges forward, right up into Jungkook’s space, _do you really wanna know?_

“Yeah.”

_which one of us would kiss you first_

Jungkook’s eyes widen, and he swipes at Mingyu’s arm. _You tricked me!_

“I didn’t trick you,” Mingyu says, his bottom lip sticking out a little, “I told you fair and square why I asked you out.”

“So do it then,” Jungkook blurts out.

 _oh_. Mingyu shuffles closer, tilting his head down slightly. _okay_

 _oh my god_ , Yugyeom’s voice cuts through, _I feel abandoned_

They ignore Yugyeom, just for the moment. Mingyu’s mind is going haywire; Jungkook can barely pick out a fully formed thought from the dozens racing past. Their mouths slot together. And then everything’s silent.

Until Yugyeom yells, _you’ll have to take that 100 000 won from my dead body, Kim Mingyu!_ and Mingyu pulls away.

 _100 000 won, really?_ Jungkook raises an eyebrow at Mingyu. _my mouth is worth that much?_

When Mingyu gives him a puzzled look, it hits Jungkook that his mind feels eerily empty. Emptier. “You can’t hear me?” he asks. 

“Nope.” Mingyu shakes his head.

 _I can still hear you_. Jungkook can hear Yugyeom’s frown, and he feels a shortlived pang of guilt in his chest. _I really wanted to see that movie_

“Huh,” Mingyu says, grinning, “That was all it took?”

“Guess we should kiss Yugyeom then.”

“Guess so.”

_I am not letting either of you get your lips anywhere near me. I’m going to torment you every single second of the day. You’ll never be fre—oh, hey, Jaebum hyung brought jjajangmyeon. Thank God, I was fucking starving_


End file.
